n assured you. But, as you say, we will talk of this some other
time, when we have more leisure. Good-night!"

And the gentlemen separated: Alden Lytton striding westward toward the
University, and Mr. Lyle walking thoughtfully toward his hotel.

His room had been secured and his key was in his pocket, so that he
possessed quite an enviable advantage over the crowd of improvident
travelers who thronged the office clamoring for quarters, and not half
of whom could by any possibility be accommodated.

As it was long after the minister's usual hour for retiring, he walked
through the crowded office into the hall and up the stairs to his
room--a very small chamber, with one window and a single bed, both
window and bed neatly draped with white.

Mr. Lyle sat down in a chair by the one little table, on which stood a
bright brass candlestick with a lighted spermaceti candle, and took from
his pocket a small Bible, which he opened with the intention of reading
his customary chapter before going to bed, when a rap at his door
surprised him.

"Come in," he said, supposing that only a country waiter had come with
towels or water, or some other convenience.

The door opened and a waiter indeed made his appearance. But he only
said:

"A gemman for to see yer, sah!" and ushered in a stranger and closed the
door behind him.

Mr. Lyle, much astonished, stared at the visitor, whom he thought he had
never seen before.

The stranger was a tall, finely-formed, dark-complexioned and very
handsome man, notwithstanding that his raven hair was streaked with
silver, his brow lined with thought, and his fine black eyes rather
hollow. A full black beard nearly covered the lower part of his face.

"Mr. Lyle," said the visitor, holding out his hand.

"That is my name, sir; but you have the advantage of me," said the
minister.

"You do not know me?" inquired the stranger in sad surprise.

"I do not, indeed."

"I am Victor Hartman!"

CHAPTER XVI.

THE RETURNED EXILE.

Danger, long travel, want, or woe,
Soon change the form that best we know;
For deadly fear can time outgo,
And blanch at once the hair;
Hard time can roughen form and face,
And grief can quench the eyes' bright grace;
Nor does old age a wrinkle trace
More deeply than despair.
--SCOTT.

"Victor Hartman!" exclaimed Mr. Lyle, in a tone of astonishment and joy,
as he sprang from hi